


The Happy Hollow of a Tree

by Crowgirl



Series: On the Strength of the Evidence [13]
Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Consensual Infidelity, Established Relationship, F/M, Lightly Beta Read, M/M, Non-Chronological, Prompt Fill, Reassurances, Trust, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8663113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: ‘If you get me concussed with an early Windsor--’





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perclexed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perclexed/gifts).



Geordie doesn’t notice he’s staring until he realises his fingers hurt from clutching at the stem of his wine glass and Caroline steps directly in front of him, her eyebrows high. ‘You are not being subtle, Geordie Keating.’

‘You’re one to talk,’ he grumbles, taking a sip of wine and grimacing. ‘You and Cath are getting worse the older you get.’

‘Is that jealousy I hear?’ She tilts her head, arching an eyebrow at him, and he knows it’s mostly a joke. 

‘You know it isn’t.’ He takes another sip from the glass, resists pulling a face, and sets it down on a passing waiter’s tray. The young man gives him a sympathetic smile and wanders away in response to a raised hand across the room.

‘But it is what I see.’ Caro slips her hand through the crook of his arm and turns to stand beside him, looking across the room to where Sidney is standing against the heavily curtained French doors talking to Amanda Hopkins. 

Geordie shrugs, vainly reaching for a coat pocket that isn’t there. He ends up slapping at his own thigh and feeling even more of a fool than he does already. A bloody hired monkey suit, no less; he’d rather have given the girls the money for their school trip. 

If the Chief Constable hadn’t breathed down his neck personally for a week about the honor of the thing -- _his_ honor, of course, Geordie had noted to himself -- and the department making a good showing, he would have stuck to his original declaration of only coming to this -- this -- _nonsense_ of an evening if he was bodily hauled. He had thought it was undeserved luck when Sidney and Leonard had turned up as well -- and, like most of his luck, it had quickly turned sour. 

‘She could be a little more subtle about it,’ Caroline observes, her tone welcome acid in his ear. ‘She practically left her husband behind with her coat.’

Geordie shrugs again, feeling a wave of tiredness go over him as Amanda laughs and leans forward, putting a hand on Sidney’s arm. Even from across the room, he can see Sidney smiling back, inclining slightly towards Amanda as she gets closer to him. ‘I can’t blame her. Have you ever spoken to Guy Hopkins?’

‘Mm, a few times. Not the most...scintillating of men.’

‘That’s being polite about it.’ 

‘Yes, well.’ Caro watches Sidney and Amanda for another moment and sniffs. ‘She’s not the most scintillating of women, is she?’ She squeezes his arm and turns her back on the room so only he can hear her: ‘Your Sidney’s definitely too good for her.’

Geordie snorts. ‘But not for a common copper?’

‘You are anything but a common copper and you know it. Anyway--’ Caroline raises her hand in response to someone behind him. ‘--I’m not here to stroke your ego.’

‘Excuse me -- excuse me, I’m so sorry, but I was wondering if--’

Geordie turns in response to the fluttering voice and resists the urge to sigh at Leonard. ‘Hello.’

‘I’m so sorry to interrupt--’ Leonard pauses.

It takes Geordie a minute to catch on. ‘Oh, yes -- Leonard Finch, this is Caroline Mackenzie. Caro, Leonard Finch -- Sidney’s curate.’

Caroline gives him a firm shake of the hand and her best company smile. ‘Cathy’s told me about you -- you have a taste for German philosophy, I hear.’

‘Oh -- oh, well, I -- yes, I suppose you could say that--’

‘I can’t stay now but you must come and talk to me later -- I think you’d enjoy my father’s library a great deal.’ Caro gives Geordie’s shoulder a last squeeze and disappears into the crowd. He sees her after a moment threading her way towards Edward Kendall, standing near the podium with his usual look of mild distaste for everyone and everything about him.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -- yes, anyway -- I’ve come with a message.’

‘Please God tell me someone’s been killed somewhere.’

Leonard starts and then smiles. ‘Well, probably, but not here, I’m afraid.’

‘Damn.’ Geordie resists the urge to plunge his hands in his trouser pockets again and instead deliberately plants his feet and makes himself stand straight. ‘What is it, then?’

‘Sir Edward was wondering if you had seen the Chief Constable.’

‘God, no. Why?’

‘Oh, dear -- well, they want to start the presentations and they can’t find him.’ 

‘Find the best whiskey and check near that,’ Geordie says and Leonard chuckles a little nervously. ‘Failing that, the best-dressed woman -- or he could be sneaking cigars, I suppose. Isn’t Kendall supposed to be quite the connoisseur?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Leonard sighs, looking over Geordie’s shoulder and then abruptly blinking and taking a half-step back.

Before Geordie can ask what he’s doing or look to see who’s behind him, a hand descends on his shoulder, holding him in place.

‘Have _you_ seen the Chief Constable, Sidney?’ Leonard asks, without a great deal of hope in his voice.

‘I think Sir Edward’s found him -- Geordie, come on. I want to show you something.’ 

* * *

‘What are you -- where the hell are we going!’ Geordie lets himself be half-pushed, half-led through an abandoned parlor and out through a side door and into the dripping wet evening. Sidney doesn’t often exert his full strength and he’s got momentum on his side now; Geordie knows his only chance of stopping him at this point is to plant his feet and throw his full weight into it and it doesn’t seem worth the effort.

There’s enough light cast by the windows for him to see Sidney has guided him onto a gravelled path between high laurel hedges. There’s a thick mist coming down and Geordie is starting to calculate the damages he’ll have to pay on the hired suit when Sidney takes a sharp turn to the left and yanks Geordie after him. 

Stumbling, Geordie follows and finds himself unceremoniously shoved against the trunk of a tree. There’s a dull thud nearby and he glances up and realises the tree is loaded with apples. ‘If you get me concussed with an early Windsor--’

‘I could see you watching us,’ Sidney interrupts, bracing his hands on the tree trunk behind Geordie’s head. 

Geordie winces. Covert observation had never been his strong point. ‘Oh. Er. Yes -- I’m sorry, I--’

‘And you’re a silly sod.’

‘--er.’ Geordie blinks at him in the semi-light filtering through the hedge from the direction of the house. In his black, Sidney is barely visible at all and Geordie has no hope of making out his expression.

‘I’m surprised Amanda’s dress didn’t catch on fire the way you were glaring at her.’

Geordie coughs and tries to think of something to say; he can’t tell from tone of voice alone whether Sidney is angry or amused or what and he doesn’t want to risk throwing the wrong words into what has suddenly become a loaded atmosphere.

Sidney is silent for a minute then he lets out a long sigh and leans in, his hands slipping in to cradle Geordie’s face. ‘I know -- I’m -- not always the most trustworthy man but...Geordie, I wouldn’t. I _wouldn’t.’_

Geordie opens his mouth to say something like _Well, not with her husband right there you wouldn't_ or _Not in a crowded room you wouldn’t_ \-- and stops himself. Instead, he takes a careful breath and covers Sidney’s wrists with his hands. He can feel the pulse hard and fast against his fingertips. ‘I know.’

They stand in silence for a minute until a heavy sprinkle of cold water strikes the back of Geordie’s neck and he winces away from the tree. ‘Did you have to haul me all the way out here to tell me that?’

‘Well--’ Sidney leans so Geordie can see him smile, then pushes closer so Geordie feels his next words as an exhale against his own lips. ‘--it wasn’t _just_ that.’

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from [_King Lear_](http://www.bartleby.com/70/4323.html).
> 
> And both these fics are in response to this conversation with @xstentlgiraffe whilst I was in the process of being ferried to Maine.
>
>> [@CrowGirl42](https://twitter.com/CrowGirl42) The problem, Geordie thought as his back hit the tree, was that Sidney's enthusiasm was bringing snow down on their heads.
>> 
>> — existential giraffe (@xstentlgiraffe) [November 11, 2016](https://twitter.com/xstentlgiraffe/status/797120515265564674)  
> 
> 
> And thanks, of course, betas, [elizajane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane) and [Kivrin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin) who were kind enough to read this and tell me to post it rather than bin it.


End file.
